Chapter 8
‘Er, hi. Sorry to interrupt you…’
In surprise, Marc recognised Lauren, the pretty, fair-haired owner of Hope’s Café.
She was dressed in a vibrant yellow bobble hat and matching gloves, and a scarlet jacket that either complemented or clashed – Marc wasn’t quite sure.
Her nose was almost as red, with the chill in the air.
But her smile was friendly and slightly apologetic, and she shuffled nervously from foot to foot.
‘No problem.’ Marc smiled. ‘What can I do for you? Lauren, isn’t it?’
‘Yeah, that’s right.’ Lauren scrabbled in the bright green handbag she was carrying and eventually pulled out Luca’s missing gloves.
‘I found these when I was clearing up, and I was worried your son might need them.’ She looked back up at him, and Marc noticed the kindness in her blue eyes.
‘I didn’t like to think of his poor little hands being cold if he went out playing in this weather. ’
Was it the cold bringing the colour to her cheeks, or was she blushing?
It was difficult for Marc to tell. Either way, he noticed how the pinkish glow looked lovely on her pale skin, and – like the yellow hat and gloves combination – only just avoided clashing with her coat.
Giving himself a mental shake, he reached out and took the offered gloves.
‘Thanks. It’s really kind of you to drop them in. Sometimes I’m not quite on top of checking that both of them have got everything.’
‘I can imagine it’s tricky with the two of them. You must be constantly having to find things!’
Marc shook his head. ‘You have no idea. I ought to keep a checklist for every time we venture out of the house.’
‘Well, at least you don’t have to worry about the gloves this time.’ Lauren gave him a shy smile.
Marc’s heart beat a funny thump thump at the sight of it. It surprised him so much that a spike of adrenaline prickled his skin. Must be tiredness, he thought. It had been a long day. Then, something else struck him. ‘Um… how did you know where to bring them?’
Lauren looked away from him and seemed embarrassed. ‘One of the other customers told me. I, er, hope that’s okay.’
Marc shook his head. ‘I suppose I’d better get used to it, living in such a small place. News travels fast, doesn’t it?’
‘Sam wasn’t gossiping,’ Lauren added hastily. ‘But you’re right, not a lot goes unnoticed around here.’
‘Well, it’s not like I’m in witness protection!’ Marc joked nervously. ‘And this house was on the market for so long, people are bound to be curious about the person who was mad enough to buy it.’
‘I think it’s a lovely house,’ Lauren replied.
‘One of my favourite things to do is to walk around the lake. I used to imagine, every time I got close to the house, what kind of people might move into it.’ She paused and then added, ‘I’m glad it’s got a family to love it again.
It always looked so lonely when it was empty. ’
Marc was touched by the sweetness of Lauren’s sentiment. God, he must be knackered. He cleared his throat. ‘Well, we’ll do our best, me and the boys.’
‘I was sorry to hear about your wife,’ Lauren added softly. ‘It must have been very hard for you all.’
Marc nodded. ‘It was.’ Then, pulling himself together a little, he added, ‘But it’s nice to be part of such a caring community. Even if everyone does know what everyone else is doing!’
‘Oh, you’ll get used to it. Welcome to Lower Brambleton.’
‘Thanks.’ Marc’s eyes locked with Lauren’s for a long moment, and he had the strangest sensation that a new connection was being made. Nervously, he broke eye contact again, unsure how to sit with that feeling. ‘Look, thanks again for bringing these round. We’re actually in the middle of dinner…’
‘Oh, right, yeah, of course.’ This time, Lauren really was blushing. ‘I’ll leave you to it.’ She turned away quickly, and Marc got the feeling he’d upset her with his abrupt dismissal.
‘Hey, Lauren,’ he called after her, ‘I really do appreciate you taking the time to drop Luca’s gloves round. Thank you.’
She looked back over her shoulder, and he was relieved when she gave him another sweet smile. ‘It’s no trouble. As I said, I didn’t want his hands getting cold.’
‘It’s nice to meet you – again,’ Marc stammered.
‘You too.’ Lauren’s smile grew more confident. ‘I’ll be sure to keep some cookies aside for the boys, if you want to pop in for another hot chocolate.’
‘That would be lovely.’ Despite dinner going cold on the kitchen table, he suddenly wanted to prolong this unexpected, but rather lovely meeting. ‘Hope’s Café is a great name, by the way,’ he added quickly. ‘Really welcoming.’
‘Thanks. I like it. It’s small, but it’s mine.’
They stood in silence for a long moment, before Lauren broke it. ‘Well, I’ll, er, let you get back to your dinner.’
‘See you soon.’ He watched her as she walked down the driveway and got into the little red car.
As Marc closed the door, he couldn’t identify exactly what he was feeling.
Jolted was one way of putting it. He hadn’t looked at another woman since Tessa had died.
Or at least, he hadn’t felt his heart beat faster as it had just now, seeing Lauren on the doorstep.
He’d had a few casual dates in the past year, when he’d tentatively felt ready to put himself out there, but something had always held him back from getting more serious with any of the women he’d been out with.
Guilt that he shouldn’t be trying to feel connected to anyone else was at the root of it.
Responsibility for his sons played a part, too.
He gave himself a mental shake. He had had exactly two conversations with Lauren: one in the café and one on the doorstep.
It wasn’t like they’d been out on a date.
He thought about the way he’d physically reacted to her sweet, gentle smile but he’d been through a lot in the past couple of weeks.
The move had taken it out of them all. He was probably just tired.
‘Daddy! Luca stole my bread!’
The shrill, irritated voice broke into his musings, and even though it meant he’d have to play referee to his two sons again, Marc was grateful for the distraction.
It was the mundane, the everyday, that would get him through this.
Life is a journey, not a destination, he reminded himself again with a bleak smile.
‘Coming,’ he called back. Placing Luca’s gloves inside the pocket of the boy’s coat, which was, for once, hung neatly on one of the hooks in the hallway, he braced himself for lasagne-related shenanigans.
Dinner times were still very much a journey, and the destination he hoped to get to, where they all got through a meal with clothing, crockery and emotions intact, sometimes felt like an incredibly long way off.
As he walked back through to the large kitchen-diner at the back of the house, he couldn’t help thinking about Lauren’s kindness.
She could have just kept hold of the gloves and returned them to Noah when he popped in for a coffee, but she’d come out of her way to give them back.
That was kind of her. It suggested someone who valued the small things, and that was a lesson he was still learning.
Keeping that in mind, he returned to the table and determined to enjoy this messy, lively dinner with the two boys he loved beyond anything else in the world.
And as his sons turned two pairs of brown eyes to him, he realised that the little things were definitely worth showing up for.